bitches brew, spinning black vinyl, tiny fingernails aligned along the side, up high, reach to see. bitches brew, i remember popsicles on the back porch and fisher price under hawaii sunset. giving grandmaw a hard time and mixing chocolate and vanilla. the salt. pressing six year old lips to the neighbors salt mouth; superheroes under the bed and so illegal, touching. it rained in july, pulled on blue striped bathing suit, cold wet hands holding each other under thunder. we danced, the heat. the telescope pointing out. the jungle backyard with rash appeal. tall grass to swallow. and asking daddy, lift me to see the flavors. mocha. and always the ocean after. angelfish circling ankles, unafraid, into waves. thin brown strands, clinging in salt-water. hula skirt, shake, under christmas tree. shake, i shook. for airplanes and goodbyes. the sunglasses in airport lobbies, shuffling. bitches brew, i spun, i spin.
